Right in Front of You
by Meghannna
Summary: Clarke was right there. She was always right there in front of him. Bellamy was the one they looked to. He was the one she looked to every single day.


**AN: It's short and it's also my first Bellarke/_The 100_ story. So, you know, be kind please? **

Her hand tingled from where his fingers had brushed against it. The muscles in his back were tight underneath the thin fabric of his thin t-shirt. While she bandaged up a gash on someone's leg—an arrow from a grounder—he moved guns and supplies from tents into the drop ship. They weren't prepared for another battle, so they needed to stay inside in order to stay alive.

Bellamy wasn't pleased with that decision, but he knew Clarke was right in suggesting it. He was even the one to announce it to the rest of the group. Then, in the silence that followed, he walked past her and brushed the tips of his fingers against the back of her hand. He was angry, annoyed, defeated, but he knew she was too. He knew that, despite her suggestion, she wanted to be out there fighting the grounders once and for all. Clarke wanted peace and Bellamy wanted to give it to her—to her and everyone else.

He was so sick of living in fear. His whole life had been spent that way—fear that Octavia would be discovered, fear that his mother would end up dead just like his father, fear that he would be alone. And now, here he was, with Octavia and 81 other teenagers. Here he was, the oldest of them all, leading them into… god knows what.

He didn't know what was beyond the small fraction of land they'd explored. He didn't know just how ruthless and dangerous the grounders might be. He didn't know if he could spare anymore lives.

When he set down the last of the supplies and ushered the rest of the group into the drop ship, his eyes landed on Clarke as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head. A small strip of skin appeared as her shirt lifted and he couldn't force himself to look away fast enough.

"Bellamy Blake, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were smitten with a certain _princess_," Octavia said quietly and he dragged his eyes to her. The smile on her face was all knowing and he just glared at her until she laughed and sat down with Jasper and Monty.

By the time he looked back toward Clarke, she was standing right in front of him. It surprised him enough for him to take a step back. She only stepped closer.

"Thank you, Bellamy," she said and he shrugged a shoulder and shook his head.

"For what?" He asked. His tone was sharp and he nearly sighed at his own coldness. Whatever they were doing inside the drop ship wasn't her fault. She was only doing what was best for them all.

"For listening to me," she said, no longer effected by his mood swings. "For being the one to talk everyone down from a battle we're not ready for."

"You were right," he admitted, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Clarke smiled, too, but it was enough to scare his face back to the Bellamy Blake standard—hard, serious, unflappable. He never let anyone know what was on his mind, what was _eating away _at his mind. But Clarke liked to think she was getting better at reading him.

"You were, too, Bellamy," she insisted, reaching for him. He almost stepped back again, but then the warmth of her palm circled his wrist and he was frozen in place. "We need to fight them. If we ever want to live peacefully and safely, we need them to know who we are and what we're capable of. With you leading us, I'm sure they'll get the hint eventually."

Her smile wasn't condescending like he once would have assumed. It was warm and it was honest and it was making him realize just how far they'd come. Not just him and Clarke, but everyone. But they were the leaders of their little pack, weren't they? He and Clarke were the ones standing on make believe soapboxes every other day, they were the ones making the rules, they were the ones that everyone looked to. Maybe everyone was finally starting to get along because Bellamy and Clarke were finally seeing what was right in front of them.

She was right in front of him. She was always right in front of him—cheering him on, shooting down his ideas, smiling, laughing, crying. She was there. And when she wasn't, when he was wandering the woods without her, she was right there in the front of his mind and on the tip of his tongue.

It had been too long since either of them had said something and Clarke was sure she'd been gripping him too tightly for too long. It took far more willpower than she ever would have imagined for her to finally let go of him. As soon as her hand was at her side again, he looked down at his wrist and then up at her face before turning around and walking away.

Clarke covered her face with her hands and sighed. What was she thinking? What was that feeling in her gut every time she looked at Bellamy? It was familiar—all too familiar. The same thing used to happen when she looked at Finn. Now all she saw when she looked at him, though, was his arm around Raven. She didn't _feel _anything anymore for Finn. They worked well together, but best when Bellamy was around.

She settled onto the floor with Jasper and Monty as soon as Octavia stood up and followed her brother to up the ladder to the top of the drop ship. Another sigh escaped her and Jasper threw her a sympathetic smile before settling against the cold, hard floor to sleep. Everyone around them was already settling in for a long night, cramped around each other.

Clarke couldn't sleep, though, she just kept her eyes trained to the ladder, hoping to see Bellamy climbing down again. He never did, though. She stayed sitting up long after everyone else's breathing had evened out. She kept her ears open for grounders on the outside and her eyes open for Bellamy. Nothing ever came. Maybe the grounders had finally retreated—at least for the night. It was much more likely that Bellamy had given up, though, and that the two of them would never move past the awkward stage where they currently lived.

Bellamy listened as footsteps made their way up the ladder and watched as a head of blonde hair peeked into the top level. He wasn't surprised to see Clarke up there—he knew she'd be up listening for the grounders just as he had been. He was surprised to see the look of complete nervousness written across her face, though. The Clarke he knew and—

The Clarke he knew never let him see when she was nervous. She put on a brave face most of the time, but even when she wasn't brave, she was never nervous—scared for her life and the life of their friends, angry, upset, never nervous.

He nodded to her, not wanting to speak and wake up the people sleeping around them, not wanting to wake up Octavia and that knowing smile of hers. He could hear her swallow before she nodded back, pulling herself up the rest of the way. She walked carefully around the sleeping bodies before sinking onto the floor next to him.

They didn't say anything. They didn't even look at each other. The longer they sat there together, though, the closer their bodies got. She let her head fall slowly to his shoulder. He let his cheek rest against her hair. Her arm extended and her hand curled around his knee. His breathing hitched before his fingers tangled with hers. Together they sat—completely alert—waiting for an attack that never came. They stayed there, though, until voices started murmuring around them and Octavia shook her head at the sight of their fingers clasped against his leg and the small smiles on each of their faces.

Bellamy didn't mind her smile all that much now. All he could think about was the feel of Clarke against him. All Clarke had on her mind was the fact that he was strong and sturdy and she _trusted _his every move and his every judgment.


End file.
